


Contemplation

by Random_Writes_Stuff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Artsy no dialogue style, Freeform, Gen, Mentions of Character Death, Mentions of Suicide, Post Reichenbach, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/Random_Writes_Stuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John stands on the roof of St Barts. He's not doing anything... just thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contemplation

**Author's Note:**

> Written on the 28th of April 2012.
> 
> Imported from my LiveJournal for fear of the rumours about the new Anti-Homosexual thing they got going recently.
> 
> You can never be too sure.

 

The sky was a depressing shade of grey.

It had been threatening to rain for a few hours now. John blinked up at the rolling clouds, hands buried in his pockets, and wondered distantly if the rain was finally going to fall...

And if he would fall with it.

Finally, he looked down. His stomach had lurched the first few times he had come up here. It hadn't looked that tall when he saw it from the street, but from up here...

He can see why some people chose to jump from up here.

His eyes moved from the street below him to trail across the London skyline. From up here, the dull grey buildings one would usually dismissed looked somewhat magnificent. Compared, the building he was on was not tall.  
But it was tall enough.

He hated the thoughts he was having, but he had long ago given up on getting rid of them, letting them eat away at his mind until no doubt one day he would get up here again and ask himself no more questions, let himself think no more thoughts. And, he would fall.

He had always thought that gratuitous romanticism would be the one that drove him off the ledge. And maybe, it will. But he wasn't up here for a lover or for his sister or for his mother or for his gram. No, he was up here because of a man. A man he was very lucky to have had as his friend.

He was up here because of Sherlock.

Just the very thought of him made him sway where he stood. He squeezed his eyes shut as the memories assault his mind. He had tried to forget it as best he could, tried to forget the shock and the pain and the fear and the dread. He especially tried to forget how his heart had skipped a beat when he saw the fall. How everything just faded into the background as he ran. How hope grew in his chest only to be shattered when he saw...

He never wanted to remember what he saw.

He didn't want it to be the last time he saw his face.

He never wanted it to be the only thing he will remember when he thought of him.

He wanted to remember the good times when his face would light up with excitement when an interesting case presented itself. Wanted to remember the small smile that would appear whenever he was proven right. Wanted to remember the times he would sulk because it was funny now when it was exasperating then. Wanted to remember how he threw himself into his violin. Wanted to remember the rare times where they shared a meal together where he actually ate. Wanted to remember the comfortable nights where they would watch crap telly together while Sherlock criticised the shows and he would find himself chuckling and joining in. Wanted to remember the shared laughter made inappropriate because they were still at a crime scene. Wanted to remember the feeling of following behind him whenever he ran off somewhere for a case, not unlike how a loyal dog would follow it's master everywhere.

Just like how it will follow it's master to the grave.

He let out a harsh laugh into the cool evening air. He didn't know how it had come to his mind but the resemblance was somewhat uncanny. He had only known the man not two days before he was loyal enough to have killed for him. And now, he was actually thinking about jumping off where he had.

And he was very close to it too.

But, if he would let himself, he won't deny that there was a sliver of hope growing in his chest. Hope that the request he had made with his hand on cold black marble would be granted.

A senseless, stupid sliver of hope that he couldn't help but hold on to.

John looked once more to the beautiful skyline, probably just like how he had before he fell. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and stepped off the ledge.

The rain had finally started to fall...

But...

All that fell with it were his tears.


End file.
